If it weren't for Chris of Book-a-Rama, I might not have known about this book - for a while, anyway! So thanks again, Chris, because I think I just found my new favourite book.It is 1930s England and the Carne sisters - Deirdre, a journalist and hopeful author; Katrine, a drama student; and Sheil, their much younger sister - are deep in a make-believe world of their own creation. There is Ironface, a doll with tin arms and head who developed an intolerably overbearing manner, married a French Count called Isidore (de la so-and-so, de la Something Else), and now lives in feudal state in France, whence, even to this day, she makes occasional descents upon us by private aeroplane-de-luxe, patronising us in an accent enragingly perfect and bearing extravagant gifts which we have to accept. (p8)There is the pierrot, who they named Dion Saffyn after a real man of minor celebrity status, and discuss his wife and children and their jobs with endless enthusiasm. There's also their dog, Crellie, who has had quite the adventurous life. Sheil's governess, Agatha Martin, is aghast at this make-believe, which she sees as lying and deception, but nothing she says will curb it. When their widowed mother sits for jury duty they are drawn to the judge, Sir Herbert Toddington, whom they fondly nickname "Toddy". He and his wife, Lady Mildred, become familiar figures in the Crane household, complete with in-jokes (Toddy and Katrine sometimes argue, and Toddy's refrain is to ask to be introduced to this young lady, again), a court assistant who takes pride in choosing Toddy's lunch every day, and help with Deirdre's first novel.At a summer holiday in Yorkshire - which none of them enjoyed - they had a go at table-turning, in which they communicated with the Brontë sisters and agreed to have them visit the Carnes at home. It being a very silly kind of game, the girls thought nothing of it - especially in light of new events that sees Deirdre meeting Lady Mildred, the real Lady Mildred! Far from being put-out by all the stories and false history the Carne sisters and their mother have engaged in about them, the Toddingtons join in enthusiastically. It all becomes a bit much for Miss Martin, the governess, but for the Carne sisters, even a visit by the ghostly Bells, Charlotte and Emily, isn't so far from their reality.This book had me laughing out loud, it's so witty and ironic and fun! Deirdre narrates (except for chapters that slip into third-person omniscient that focus on poor Miss Martin and her replacement), and she's a modern woman, very intelligent, a very astute observer, and they all have that distinctive way of speaking that manages to make fun of itself while sounding perfectly cultured and sophisticated; especially delightful when they're discussing darling Toddy:From the bedrooms a flight below came voices.DEIRDRE'S: 'What's Toddy doing now?'MRS CARNE'S: 'Asleep. It's late. Hurry into bed, lamb.'DEIRDRE'S: 'With one ivory claw against his little face!'KATRINE'S: 'What are his pyjamas like?'MRS CARNE'S: 'Blue and white, from Swan and Edgar.'DEIRDRE'S: 'Darling! Can you see Toddy getting his things there!'MRS CARNE'S: 'I expect he gets them by the half-dozen from the place in St James's Street where he bought the dressing-gown last summer that was too long for him, and he was so annoyed with us for offering to shorten it.' (p.38)While at the first I wasn't sure what was real or what a "pierrot" was (had to look that one up - I recognise the doll, but it's been a while since I heard what they were called), you quickly get into the swing of things. This is an interesting time period, the 30s - the 20s are more famous, the 30s dowdy by comparison, but it strikes me as a decade in which society really matured. It comes across in the way Deirdre and Katrine speak, in what they talk about, how frank they are, and how sometimes moving across class boundaries is okay, permissible, and having a job, as a woman, is nothing to make a fuss over.'It would be a lark, K. Think of the frightful people you'd meet, and singing "Bird of Love Fly Back" at auditions, and being told by an overdressed Hebrew in a hat two sizes too small that he'd "let you know in a few days"! They all say that. It means you don't get the job and he doesn't write to you,' I urged. Katrine brightened.'I can't guarantee that you'll be kissed much,' I admitted, 'and you'll almost certainly not get "insulted" by the offer of a flat and diamonds, because there's too much competition, so hardly anybody gets offered that any more, and there's a perfect queue waiting to be insulted, and in any case, most chorus girls come from perfectly nice homes in South Kensington and behave like nuns, these days. But you'll be called Kid and Dear by the other sort, and I once heard a producer telling a troupe to "dance it with debunnair".' (p.40)Oh it makes me laugh! And what's more, because it's not always a straight-forward read, I can read it again and again and find more to marvel at. For a short book, there's a lot going on here. I bought another copy, to send home to my sister Tara, because I know she'll absolutely love this as much as me. I'd say the tone is along the lines of Stella Gibbons' Cold Comfort Farm and Nightingale Wood (from the same period), but much less cynical - The Brontës Went to Woolworths takes delight in life and living and imagination and creativity and having a sense of humour and really relishing people. At times, the three sisters reminded me a little of the Dashwoods, from Sense and Sensibility - but they're quite different personalities.This is published by the Bloomsbury Group, an imprint of Bloomsbury which is reprinting old forgotten classics. You can recommend a book to them to publish ... and I think I will do just that! I have been lamenting the fact that no nice new editions of The Blue Castle exist; this could be just the thing! I don't know if it's one they can do, because probably Bantam still has the rights, but they're not doing anything with it and someone has to reprint the book as it deserves!You can email The Bloomsbury Group at:
[email protected] (that's the address I have; they'd have a UK one as well) with your recommendations of lost classics from the early twentieth century. What a great idea!!
A few months ago, I read Let's Kill Uncle from the Bloomsbury Group. I loved it, when I get round to writing my Top Ten Books of 2015 so far, it will most certainly feature. This one, also published by the Bloomsbury Group, will not. Based purely on components, it ought to have been a sure-fire winner. It had a strong female cast. There were frolics and high-japes. It had a strong vintage aesthetic. But ... it just felt silly. And weird. Like a bizarre Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf meets The Magic Roundabout and there is a reason why those two sound strange as a mash-up. Fortunately, it was short and I rattled through to the end, finishing at what felt like a sprint and then reached gasping for something less cloying (A God In Ruins here we come!) This novel features the Carne family; the mother and then the three sisters, Deirdre, Katrine and then little Sheil. They are compulsive fantasists, spinning webs of stories around everything from household objects and old toys to well-known public figures who they have never met. The drama comes when they genuinely become acquainted with their main target, the high court judge Sir Herbert Toddington. There is a muffled tragedy to what is going on here as Deirdre repeatedly has her novel rejected and Katrine's acting career flounders, then in the background there is the stoically miserably governess but the over-arching silliness of it all made me lose all patience. I understood it was a farce and that I was supposed to laugh along at these bright young things and their charming ways, I just ended up feeling like the boring stick-in-the-mud sitting in the corner refusing to join in the fun and bored out of my mind.It was not that the writing was bad, indeed there were some very attractive turns of phrase. I particularly liked Katrine's description of how a fellow actress had become so overwrought that she had 'prayed all over the stage', with the same tone of disgust as if the unfortunate girl had thrown up. Still, the way in which all the Carne women drooled over the elderly 'Toddy' was rather nauseating and gave a very claustrophobic feel to the narrative. To be honest, I was with the governess - they just all seemed off their rockers. It felt truly sad to read of how the young Sheil was being inducted into this society of the bizarre and so eagerly losing her grip on reality. I can't think of another book where I found it so hard to suspend disbelief.Rachel FergusonThe thing is, I spent the greater part of my childhood in a dreamworld. I still do write stories. A few years ago, someone was relating a story about a friend of theirs and I was just about to chime in about how a friend of mine had had a similar experience when I remembered that no, this was not true because said friend was not real, I had written him and thus he had no part in the conversation. Before I learnt to read, I told myself stories. As a toddler, I remember my mother telling me long and epic tales about the adventures of the face-cloths. My Playmobil and Sylvanians were sent on long quests (often influenced by Narnia or The Dark is Rising). I am a story-teller. However, the Carnes' attempts to refashion those around them to suit their make-believe world just seemed unhealthy - closer kin to Misery than anything actually amusing.I think as well though that the Puritan in me just disliked all of the Talk about a man who was married. The Carne girls' mother observed to the girls as part of their game that to give Mildred (Toddy's wife) 'her due, she does see to his comforts.' This massive overstep of the line set me against the characters right from the off. I appreciate that adultery was not what was happening here, but there was disrespect. Similarly, the way that the Bronte sisters were crow-barred into the narrative also annoyed me, mainly because Ferguson gaily shoved Anne Bronte out the picture yet briskly appropriated the elder two as natural allies of the Carnes' objectives. First of all, I love the Brontes and felt offended on their behalf that they were being used in such an idiotic novel. Second of all, Anne Bronte is my favourite Bronte of all and seeing her forgotten just seemed rude. I felt as though I finished the book with a real scowl on my face. This may have been intended as comic - possibly even cringe-comic - but it just came off as stupid. Silly. And not funny.For my full review:http://girlwithherheadinabook.blogspo...
I devoured this novel in about 36 hrs due to yet another sleepless night. At first I was sort of "WTF is this?" due to Dierdre's choppy internal narration, but once you get into the family dynamic of inventing friendships with public figures (major or minor, fictional or real) it begins to make sense, in a weird sort of way--especially if like the Carne girls and their mother (and this reader) you grew up lonely and set apart from those around you. What child hasn't found imaginary playmates in books or TV shows to talk to when alone? And aren't some of those the best conversations?The fun really starts when some of their imaginary friends impinge on their real lives; but I must say the "paranormal" Bronte thread doesn't really fit. . What was the deal with the encounter with the governess? What was the POINT of the paranormal bit? And why would you want to make friends with someone who hits your dog? I felt that there was a little backstory missing there, though of course as we know "table turning" (ie ouija), seances and all forms of occultic messing about were very popular in those days.That said, it is refreshing to read a novel set in the 20s and 30s that was actually written then. Of course, the language and activities are spot on! Period fiction writers please take note!! It's light, entertaining and a good read. The title grabbed my attention and made me curious, and I could forgive the plotholes for these lines alone: A woman at one of my mother's parties once said to me, "Do you like reading?" which smote us all to silence, for how could one tell her that books are like having a bath or sleeping or eating bread--absolute necessities which one never thinks of in terms of appreciation.Indeed.I want more; alas, where I live, there isn't any more.
—Orinoco Womble (tidy bag and all)
One of the weirdest books I have ever read. For the first 60 pages or so, I thought I wasn't going to make it. It was so slippery, and so private, that I couldn't follow it. (Starting it last night, D said it was like reading Clockwork Orange.) And then it just locked into place and I got it, and it was wonderful. And tragic. And weird. Weird, weird, weird. It's not really about the Brontes, only metaphorical Brontes, except, of course, when they actually show up. And there's all the other bits, about the governesses, and about people getting or not getting what they want. And women, of course, and income, and what life might be if you had to take it only at face value. Oh, I can't explain. Clara, if you find a copy at CPL, give it a try. Only the snobbery rankled a little.
—Alisa
What a terrifying little novel, despite the whimsy and banter! Confusing at first, the method to the madness of the Carnes family comes clear eventually. The characters are complex, multi-layered, not necessarily very nice people. Your own loyalty, as a reader, might shift at the end as Ferguson tosses you first one way and then another.Mixed POV, nearly impenetrable British slang, references to popular culture that are obscure to a modern American reader: these things make it tough going. But I read the book again, then sought out some commentary on Google Scholar to enhance my understanding. Highly recommend this, especially since it was reprinted by Virago at one time.
—Leslie
